Unable to cope with the immenseness of it all I have tried to ignore it, bury my head in the sand and distract myself by staring for hours on end at the pattern on my duvet. I feel neglected.
Dave is going; that is for certain and I haven’t seen Boris for days.
Even the girls I thought I could rely on have been noticeable by the distance I feel between us. Theresa and Andrea seem to have been so embroiled in their own contretemps they have had little time for me. Perhaps now Angela is splitting from Jeremy with what seems like deep acrimony, she and I might find something in common.
For the time being the only person I seem to be able to rely on is that nice man at the bank, Mark, I think he’s called. Maybe it’s time to see him again, although I know he’ll only tell me that times are going to be tough and I have to cut back.
How did I ever get into this mess in the first place? It’s not my fault. Now I’m not so angry, I just feel sad for what might have been, what we had and what we’ve lost. I think I’ll go and take another look at the pattern on that duvet.
